rushed

The epitome of my week:

I woke up fried from having a bad practice the night before. I hit the snooze one time too many, and tried to catch a couple extra minutes of sleep by planning out what to wear in my head. After finally dragging myself down the ladder and rushing through the morning routine, I tried to remember everything I had to bring out the door that day.

Keys, cell phone, iPod, glasses...bills to mail, ID badge for work...belt, knee braces...Metrocard...

After a couple trips back and forth from the elevator to my door, I just had to go or else I'd be late for hand therapy. But somehow there was a nagging feeling that I'd forgotten something.

I get to the subway stop and fumble for my Metrocard, swiping it as the 1 train pulled away. The next one came, and when I crossed the platform to get to the express, I noticed it was empty. One must have just passed. And then the 1 train I'd just gotten off of closed its doors and pulled away. I finally get to Times Square and book it across to get to the shuttle - to watch that pull away too. What are the odds of missing all 3 trains??

So I finally get on the next shuttle, and I'm sandwiched in between a whole lot of people. There's barely enough room to fidget, that's how many people were crammed into that train. And when you're squeezed that tightly in small quarters, you really can't look anywhere because anywhere you turn your head, you're looking straight at someone. So I did the next natural thing, and looked down at my feet.

That's when I realized...I had put on my sneakers this morning instead of my dress shoes.